Respect
by Verdreht
Summary: Respect is important in Matt and Becker's line of work. Even if he doesn't trust him, Matt needs to know that Becker will respect him enough to follow his orders and consider his advice if they're ever going to succeed as a team. When Connor and Abby come back through the anomaly, their tenuous alliance might get the reinforcement it needs. Part 1 of Matt/Becker AU Verse, pre-slash


He found Becker in the armory. Although, to be perfectly honest, it hadn't taken much in the way of finding. Becker was all over the place when they were working, checking security measures in all corners and crags of the building and running weapons and equipment inventories and everything else that seemed to fall into the catch-all of Becker's job description.

But this was after-hours, and in the mood he'd seemed to be in when he'd stalked off, Matt made an educated guess as to where he might find the head of security. And as luck would have it, he'd guessed right.

Becker was sitting at the table in the middle of the armoury, back to the door, tugging off his tac vest with all the speed and ease of someone that had recently been on the receiving end of a blast from an electro muscular disruption weapon but was too stubborn – or maybe just too pissed off – to let it slow him down.

Much.

"Have you taken anything for it yet?" he asked, more to announce his presence than out of any genuine curiosity. Becker was a grown man; he could look after himself. Although, Matt was a bit curious to see just how far Becker's bull-headed machismo went.

Becker didn't so much as glance back at him, laying his gear out on the table. "Taken anything for what?" he said. Each word was measured and deliberate, yet clipped. He wasn't a happy man, Becker. After what they'd watched go on in Lester's office, he couldn't blame him. And the little refresher on everything that'd plagued Becker's conscience since Abby and Connor (and Danny Quinn) had disappeared through that anomaly couldn't have been good for his mood, either.

So, no. He wasn't expecting sunshine and roses and smiles from the captain. But then, that wasn't exactly new, was it?

"The headache. And muscle aches. Not sure there's much can be done for the burning sensation, but that should clear itself up soon enough if it hasn't done already." He refused to feel guilty about what he'd done. Becker had literally asked for it; he had a witness to the claim, and it was a necessary point to make. Becker needed to trust the weapons he issued to his men, and equally, he needed to learn to trust the decisions that Matt made for the team. He needed to trust that they were done in their best interests.

He wouldn't knowingly endanger any of them, especially not after what he'd seen in the hall. That look in Becker's eyes, that haunted look, full of regret and guilt...he'd seen the like, in the future. Seen it in the eyes of fathers, brothers, mothers. People who'd lost someone, and thought they could've done more to stop it. But it went beyond thinking. It was deeper than that, less cognitive and more visceral. He knew none of what he'd said could help, and getting Connor and Abby back could only hope to lighten the load. There was still Danny, still Sarah. Twenty-seven years old was awfully young to shoulder that sort of burden, and who knew what else was lurking there?

Becker's voice drew Matt back out of his head. "Haven't really had the chance, have I?" he asked in the kind of voice that said clearly, if crossly, that no, he had not. Made sense. The anomaly had been a bit sudden, even as anomalies went, and they'd been taken up since they got back.

"You've got it now, though. And you'll want to take something. That pounding's only going to get louder when you wake up in the morning."

"Lovely," Becker muttered dryly. He hooked his fingers in the bottom of his shirt and started pulling it up over his head, not without some difficulty. Colour him a bleeding heart, but Matt almost wanted to offer a hand. But Becker's pride was bruised enough. Matt would leave him to it.

As it turned out, it wasn't just Becker's pride that was bruised, though. His shoulders and back, and the backs of his arms were all starting to turn various shades of not-at-all-pleasant, probably more from the landing than the actual shot itself. His elbows were the worst. At least he'd fallen well, even stunned as he had to have been. Distributed the impact of the fall through his arms and hands, instead of taking it to the back of the skull.

The man really was a soldier, and a good one. He'd be top of Matt's concerns, if only Matt thought he gave a rat's arse about anomalies beyond keeping people out of them (and the mouths of the creatures that came through them). As it was, he was more concerned putting an end to all their butting heads. The man could be an asset, if he'd only stop second guessing everything Matt did.

He sighed. "I'm sorry about your friends, Becker." It was as much of an olive branch as Matt dared give. Anything more, and he ran the risk of Becker thinking he was patronizing him. Which he could understand and respect; he couldn't stand people talking down to him, either. And even if he hadn't earned Becker's trust, Becker had at least earned Matt's respect. And hopefully after today, vice versa. Or heading that direction. "I know it couldn't have been easy, having to watch that."

Becker actually chuckled. A wrier sound, Matt had never heard, but it was a chuckle all the same. "Is anything about this place ever easy?"

"No, I don't suppose it is." Matt found himself smiling a bit as well as he said it, though. "And the people are so bloody hard-headed," he added.

That, mercifully, got Becker to at least cut his eyes at him. At first, he looked cross, but then he seemed to see the mild smile on Matt's face and, after a moment, turned back to the table. Just not before Matt caught the twitch of his lips.

His smile became a sympathetic wince, though, as Becker started pulling on a vest. Matt was just glad he hadn't gone for the full t-shirt, with sleeves; he seemed to be having trouble enough as it was just getting his arms through the holes. And alright, maybe he did feel a bit bad about shooting him with the EMD. Even if he had asked for it. Repeatedly.

"Ice ought to help," he mentioned helpfully, leaning his hip against the table and folding his arms across his chest.

Another sideways glance, this time as Becker shrugged on his jacket. "I'll live," he said. The effect was a bit lost with his voice the way it was, tight and a bit breathless. He was hurting, whether or not he would admit it.

"You will." Even if it would feel like he wouldn't for the next couple of days.

Becker opened his mouth, and Matt was expecting some sort of sarcastic backbite remark, but instead, he just closed it again. For a moment, it looked like he was debating with himself. Whether he wanted to say something or not. What he wanted to say, if he said anything at all.

When at last he seemed to come to a decision – after all of about two seconds, mind; it must have been nice, Matt thought, to be the kind of person where indecision lasted no more than a breath or two – he sighed. "Thank you."

Two words, but Matt couldn't have been more surprised if he'd come out and recited an entire Shakespearean sonnet. Well. Maybe a bit. But still. "For what, exactly?"

He was actually pleased when Becker held his gaze. He was the type of man that did that as a rule, but it just seemed more...genuine, that way. "Connor would probably be dead if it weren't for you."

He didn't say any more than that, but he didn't need to. Implied as the meaning was, Matt got it. They'd only just gotten Connor and Abby back today. Losing one of them – or God forbid, the both of them – wasn't something he imagined Becker was ready to think about. He'd seen him in the video logs after they'd lost Sarah Page. He looked...broken. A shadow of the strong-willed soldier, of the unflinchingly purposed man that stood before him. It wasn't a question of bonds or attachments; it would just be a bloody shame to not only lose a brilliant mind like Connor's, as much of a variable as it presented, but to lose someone like Becker with it. If there was one thing Matt couldn't stand, it was waste. And that was what it would be.

So, he smiled again and nodded, clapping Becker on the shoulder and pretending he didn't notice when he flinched. It was an accident. Mostly. Although he wouldn't deny it was a good way to break the tensely emotional cloud that had settled in the air between them. "Sorry, mate," he said.

"Of course you are." He sounded less than convinced.

Matt ignored it. "And you're sure you'll be alright to get home on your own?"

Becker shot him a look. "Are you my team leader, or my mother?" he said, grabbing his bags up off the table and starting for the door.

It was clearly meant to be an insult, but for all he seemed to be an upfront sort of man, a lot of what he said had dimensions that went unspoken. Or, at least, weren't the feature of the statement. 'My team leader,' he'd said. A recognition. An acceptance.

A sign, at long last, of mutual respect.


End file.
